


The Earth only moves when I'm with you

by Sailoruuranus (Pyroclastic)



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyroclastic/pseuds/Sailoruuranus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look at me,” Laura says, and Carmilla kisses her quiet because she is looking at her, she can’t stop looking at her. It’s been that way since the moment they met. Laura is just magnetic, her gravity pulling Carmilla in like the moon and the tide. Even her affection for Ell couldn’t compare to whatever unnamable thing she feels for Laura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Earth only moves when I'm with you

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a quick porn prompt. Thanks to Megan Devonwood for making sure I didn't post it with the terrible first draft.

Carmilla makes it halfway across the quad before she gives up and turns back around. The snow that had dumped itself overnight is up to her knees and the ogres who shovel and salt the footpaths are on strike. There’s no reason she has to be cold and wet for a class she’s taken five times already.

She stomps her boots just outside the door of Crowley Hall, getting the worst of the snow out of the treads. It would be easier if she could just teleport into her room, but Carmilla accidently poofed in on Laura changing once, which let to Laura immediately written no teleporting into their roommate agreement. And honestly, Carmilla still couldn’t tell if Laura was more upset at being caught naked, or if she just didn’t want Carmilla to startle her like that again.

The dormitory is eerily quiet as she makes her way through the building. No college campus should be this silent. It makes her wonder if maybe she’s missing an apocalypse somewhere, but then she decides she doesn’t really care. She’s stopped the world from burning once already; it’s someone elses job now.

Carmilla turns the corner at the end of the hall, her ears perking when she hears music thumping from the end of the hall. From the room she shares with Laura.

Curiosity piqued, she creeps towards the door. Just above the music are the sounds of bed springs creaking rhythmically and someone moaning. Laura moaning.

Carmilla’s done the college experience enough times that she knows the sounds of someone getting fucked. But never has it left a bitter taste in her mouth the way it does now.

She should turn around and leave them be. Obviously Laura has chosen the giantess over her, she should respect that. But she also doesn’t want to give Danny the satisfaction of running her off with her tail between her legs. Fuck it, she’s 300 years old. She’s allowed to be petty.

The door opens with a creak, but it’s drowned out by the music playing.

Laura’s moans are loud over the music.

Carmilla steps around Laura’s headboard, eyes closed, not entirely sure if she wants to see whatever it is that Danny’s doing. But when she finally looks up through her eyelashes, Carmilla’s surprised to find Laura alone in her bed, blanket over her shoulders and face turned to the wall. No Danny there at all.

"Carmilla,” Laura whispers, voice thick and desperate. Carmilla shivers at the sound of her name escaping Laura’s lips. “Right there. Harder.”

The bed squeaks again as she rolls over onto her back. Her eyes are shut tight, body tense as her hands move under the blankets.

Desire makes Carmilla flush, her heart is pumping a little faster than the few beats per second she lives on. She leans against her bed, unsure if her unsteady legs will continue to hold her up.

She knows she should say something, but she opens her mouth and no words come out. She should say something, anything, or maybe she should leave the room to give Laura even a little privacy. It’d be the right thing to do -- the decent thing to do. But Carmilla’s had so little practice at being decent that she’s slow to react, slow to realize that maybe watching her roommate masturbate isn’t considered proper. And she’s been trying really hard at being good lately.

Laura’s eyes flutter open and she sees Carmilla immediately, face flushing immediately. And when she speaks, her voice comes out high-pitched and breathy. “Carmilla! What are you doing here?”

Carmilla’s smirk is weak, her body slow to remember to take on its usual swagger and sarcasm. As it is, it takes all her strength to walk closer to Laura’s bed, hips swinging, without stumbling. “I live here, cutie. Remember?”

If Laura can hear the quiver in her voice, she doesn’t say anything. Instead she pulls the blanket up high, covering her previously exposed skin. “Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe you -- you’re supposed to be in class!”

“Playing hooky. So is this what you do every day when I go to my five o’clock lecture?” Carmilla  teases to hide the way her hands shake, the way her knees feel like they’ll give out any moment.

Laura pulls the blankets over her head. “I’m so sorry.“

“Don’t be, sweetheart. It was quite the show to walk in on,” Carmilla says. She leans in close and tugs at the edge of the blanket until Laura’s looking into her eyes. “Although you could do without the blanket.”

Laura is quiet for a moment, too quiet, and Carmilla instantly worries that she went too far. After all, flirting doesn’t mean Laura wants to have sex with her. Carmilla’s kind of an expert at flirting with men she’s sexually repulsed by, so she gets it. She wouldn’t blame Laura, not after all that they’ve been through.

But then Laura smirks and says, “But then I’d get cold. It’s like twenty degrees outside.“

Carmilla leans against the bed, matching Laura’s grin. “You know, you’re right. It is a little chilly in here.”

“I can think of a way we could warm up.” She sits up, the blanket falling to her waist, and pulls Carmilla into a kiss.

It’s everything Carmilla has been wanting since the first time she realized she wanted Laura, all those months ago. Her lips are soft but demanding, her hand firm on the back of Carmilla’s neck. And if vampires could cry, Carmilla would be crying with relief.

They part only once, breathing heavily. Laura’s eyes are closed, her lips between her teeth, but Carmilla can’t look away from her. Like if she does, this perfect dream will end.

Carmilla kisses her again, unwilling to let another moment go to waste. There’d been an undeniable something building between them for months, an electric charge that made each moment spark with tension. Now those sparks have given way to a storm, with each kiss and touch and sigh a lightning strike.

Laura lays back onto her pillow, pulling Carmilla down with her. Carmilla takes the hint, gracefully climbing onto the bed even as the mattress groans under their combined weight.

Carmilla lays down when Laura moves to give her room. Her arms and legs still feel weak, and she’s not sure how long she could have held herself up. Her hands find Laura’s waist, like an echo of the first time she held Laura close.

“Can I watch?” she asks. “I wasn’t kidding about enjoying the show.”

Laura’s blushing again, and her skin is covered in goosebumps. “Okay. How should I--”

“However you want, sweetheart,” Carmilla says.

Laura looks at her for a while, and Carmilla can see her visibly relax as she gets used to the sudden intimacy. Her hands slide down her body, down below the blanket bunched around her waist. Carmilla desperately wants to see all of her, but Laura has erected a boundary, one both physical and figurative. In a different life, Carmilla would have pushed the line until it disappeared. But she’s a different person now, and Laura’s trust is too precious to break.

Laura’s already tense under her gaze, a sort of self-consciousness that isn’t going to go away just because Carmilla has confirmed that she wants Laura. She can’t see everything, doesn’t know how many fingers Laura likes or if she just prefers clit stimulation. But she can watch Laura’s abdomen contract with each little surge of pleasure, and she can hear Laura’s breath come out in stuttered sighs, and she can smell her arousal like perfume in the air. And that’s enough for Carmilla; anything Laura gives her is a gift.

So instead she lets her hand wander where Laura lets her. Fingers trail over her stomach, nails scratching lightly up her sides. Laura’s muscles tense and she shivers and she smiles that beautiful, joyful smile that Carmilla adores. She leans down for another kiss and cups her breast gently, fingers teasing her nipple to try and elicit a moan.

“Carmilla,” Laura whispers again, but it lacks the tense desperation Carmilla had heard when she had entered the room. It’s a song of contentment and Carmilla hasn’t heard her name spoken so gently in a very long time.

The intimacy makes Carmilla shiver and hold Laura tighter. Lust races through her, but there’s an undercurrent of fierce affection and trust as well. Laura’s eyes flutter open and Carmilla finds herself caught in her gaze, like a moth in a web.

“Look at me,” Laura says, and Carmilla kisses her quiet because she is looking at her, she can’t stop looking at her. It’s been that way since the moment they met. Laura is just magnetic, her gravity pulling Carmilla in like the moon and the tide. Even her affection for Ell couldn’t compare to whatever unnamable thing she feels for Laura.

Laura pulls away. Her voice is desperate when she says, “No, I mean it. I was imagining you watching me before you came in. I want you to watch me now.”

“What if I don’t want to watch?” Carmilla says. “What if I want to touch?”

Laura laughs and crab crawls to the end of the bed when Carmilla reaches for her. “I said watch. The only one who gets to touch me is me.”

Carmilla groans like a predator who can’t reach its next meal, one who is hungry to touch and kiss every inch of perfect skin. But the small sliver of human left in her, the one that sometimes only Laura can see, wants to stay put and be good for her. Carmilla’s the one who walked in on something private; she can concede to go at Laura’s pace.

She sits back and makes herself comfortable on Laura’s pillows, knowing that it’d do no good to argue but still a little put out that she can’t play. She wouldn’t touch where Laura doesn’t want her to touch; she just wants to hold her and feel every quake and shiver of pleasure. She wants to smell her excitement and hear her heart beat against her ribs. Being made to watch from the end of the bed almost feels like a punishment, but not one she’d willingly give up.

Laura slowly pushes the blanket from around her waist to reveal soft, pinkened skin, her legs tucked neatly underneath her and a modest strip of hair trailing up from the V of her thighs. Then, like she’s practiced it in a mirror for just this moment, she smirks at Carmilla. Her hands slide up her legs, up her body, fingers sweeping broadly over her stomach and over her breasts. She closes her eyes, relishing in the feel of her body.

“My fantasies are a little different from this, you know,” she says, teasing her nipples with gentle tugs.

“Tell me.”

“It doesn’t always start with you walking in on me,” Laura says with a laugh. She leans back against the footboard and slides her feet out from under her. Her touches move down her body. “Sometimes I’m in the bath and you’re watching me. Sometimes I have you tied up against the headboard. But each time I imagine your eyes. I’ve seen you stare at me, Carm. It can be a little intense.”

Carmilla strokes her jaw and pulls her into another sharp kiss, teeth tugging at her lips as they break apart “Fuck, is the sex kitten act a recent development, cutie? Or has she always been there, just waiting to escape those adorable little button-ups you always wear?”

“Everyone thinks I’m some naive, sheltered child, but I’m not.” Laura locks her gaze with Carmilla’s, her jaw set in stubborn defiance. “Just because my dad practically locked me up in a tower like Rapunzel doesn’t mean I didn’t have the internet. I’m not some sexless doll that needs someone more experienced to show me what goes where.”

“I know,” Carmilla says, quietly, slowly so as to not set Laura off. “I can smell it. Your desire. It soaks into everything. When you and that red-headed sasquatch started hanging out, I’d come back at two in the morning and you’d be in bed and the entire room smelled like you’d spent the night fucking. And I thought you were, for months. But then she was mad at you and the room still smelled like sex. That’s how I knew that it was just you.”

Laura licks her lips, her eyes unfocused. She doesn’t speak or move, seemingly too lost in Carmilla’s words. Which is a shame, because Carmilla is desperate for her thighs to open and reveal all that Carmilla has been craving.

And when she finally does speak, her voice is thick and heavy with lust. “Is that why you always steal my pillow?”

Carmilla grins, but doesn’t answer. Instead she grabs the hem of her t-shirt and pulls it over her head in one swift movement. It would just be so unfair if Laura didn’t get a show of her own.

“What are you doing?”

Carmilla winks at her as she sits up on her knees. She reaches behind her with one hand and unhooks her bra with practiced ease. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Oh. Oh wow,” Laura says.

Carmilla can’t help but to give her a little strip tease as she shimmies out of her shorts. She dips the waist low, letting Laura peek for just a second. The music is slow and sensual, and Carmilla’s hips begin to move and swing. Her fingers slide down under her panties, rubbing over her clit in quick, short strokes. She hisses. Her body floods with relief as she finally stops ignoring her own needs.

"Carm.” Laura tries to crawl back to Carmilla's side of the bed, but Carmilla stops her with a disapproving finger.

"Nope," she says. "Look but don't touch. Those were your rules if I recall."

“Please. I take it back.”

“Just sit back and relax, buttercup. We’ll have plenty of time to play later.”

Laura lets out a frustrated sigh as she lays back against the blanket she’s using as a pillow. Her legs fall open casually, distracting Carmilla for just long enough to gaze hungrily at her pink lips and hard clit peeking through the folds. There will be time later to taste and consume, to bite and caress. She has had centuries of learning patience.

She drops her shorts and panties over the side of the bed. Carmilla spreads her legs wide, two fingers pushing aside her folds to give Laura the best view. She drags her fingers on either side of her clit, the feeling sharp and electric. Her eyes slip shut as she rides the currents of her own pleasure, letting herself get lost in the undertow.

"Look at me, Carm," Laura says gently. But Carmilla can hear the command in her voice, too, and her eyes snap open instantly.

Laura’s watching her, two fingers already buried deep inside, tongue licking the sweat off her upper lip. Carmilla rubs her clit in tandem with Laura’s own movements. The sound of their sighs and gasps and slick fingers join the music that is still playing.

Carmilla’s pleasure builds quickly. It becomes harder to stop her moans, desperately trying to lock them away by biting down on her lip. Her eyes still haven’t left Laura, but now they’re transfixed on her face, the worry of her brow as her fingers work herself over.

“Oh, oh fuck.” Laura isn’t nearly as quiet. There’s no hint of restraint as every shock of pleasure makes the muscles of her legs twitch and her stomach quiver. She changes position every few seconds, as if she can’t quite get comfortable, as if her climax is just out of her reach.

Carmilla watches Laura remove her fingers, wincing at the sudden loss, and then she’s crawling over to Carmilla, kneeling next to her.

“I’m not touching, I just --” She hesitates, then pulls open a drawer on her headboard. Carmilla watches with curiosity as she rifles around and then finally pulls out a modest sized dildo. It’s purple. And sparkly.

Laughter bubbles in Carmilla’s chest, spilling out even as Laura blushes.

“Oh like you don’t have any kinky sex toys hidden at the bottom of that sack you carry around with you everywhere.” She slicks the dildo in lube that she has also found in the drawer and settles down next to Carmilla.

“The sparkles are definitely you, cupcake,” says Carmilla.

Now, with Laura so close, she quickly loses interest in what Laura’s doing with her fingers and suddenly becomes entranced by the way pleasure plays out on her face. Sweat glistens on her brow and her lips are chapped from licking away the salt. When Laura opens her eyes, Carmilla can see her blown out pupils in her glassy, half-lidded stare.

Laura seems to waste no time with her toy. She bites her lip, lines the dildo up and pushes it in slowly. A dozen expressions cross Laura’s face -- pain, pleasure, and relief all play themselves out in the few seconds it takes for Laura to slip the head of the toy in. Then comes bliss, pure bliss, as it drags against all the right spots. Her moans take on a deeper, more primal tone, like maybe before she was just being polite.

Carmilla had forgotten about her own needs as she had watched Laura retrieve the dildo and settle into the pillow next to her. But with Laura writhing and panting two inches from her face, her body remembers for her. Her fingers slide in, fingers crooked just right, palm grinding against her clit.

Her orgasm rushes closer, every nerve in her body tense, waiting for that moment of absolution. She turns her head and her mouth meets Laura’s, a kiss that’s sloppy and rough and desperate.

“Close,” Carmilla says between gritted teeth. She feels like she’s on fire, a raging inferno that starts in her toes and licks up her body. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

“Do it.” Laura’s voice cracks from overuse. “I want to watch you come for me, Carm.”

Those are the words Carmilla needed to hear. Her climax slams into her, forcing the air out of her lungs with a scream. Her back arches, her legs tense, and her hand begins to cramp. But oh if it isn’t the best orgasm Carmilla’s had in years, a full-body release that feels like she’s been cleansed of all sin.

Laura whimpers beside her. “Carm, I can’t.”

“Yes you can, Laura,” Carmilla says. She’s still coming down from her own orgasm and all she wants to do is sleep, but she still pulls Laura into her embrace. Laura is shaking in her arms, her muscles fatigued from the exertion and her skin slick with sweat. Carmilla licks the salt from her collar and bites gently above the scars she’d caused months before.

Laura comes moments later, her face twisted in ecstasy. Carmilla can’t help but kiss her then; she places kisses on her lips and eyelids and the crinkle of her nose until the tension smooths out. Laura is raw beauty, like lightning or a forest fire, and Carmilla’s just a moth looking to burn.

It takes a few minutes before Laura begins to relax in Carmilla’s arms, body shivering as she rides out the aftershocks. Carmilla runs her fingers through her hair and holds her tight. Then, once the tension has finally receded, Carmilla says, “Alright?”

Laura just hums contentedly, arm wrapping around Carmilla’s abdomen to snuggle her closer. “So that was kind of amazing.”

It has been three hundred years after her death and she has had countless lovers over three centuries. She could name dozens who were more skilled, who had more experience, who were more adventuresome. There were decades where she spent every night with someone new, learning something new. She has had sex with men and women, with humans and the supernatural. There have been a lot of orgies and one night stands and multiple orgasms. The things she has experienced would make even Casanova blush.

She can’t help but agree that sex with Laura, no matter how imperfect, is amazing. It’s phenomenal. It’s earth shatteringly wonderful. But how can she express that in words? How can she explain that it’s so much better with Laura? She doesn’t understand it herself; how could she let herself stumble through explaining it.

Instead of saying anything, Carmilla rubs her nose against Laura’s forehead and kisses her when the girl looks up. Laura tries to push her onto her back, kisses quickly moving from Carmilla’s lips to her jaw to her neck.

“How are you up for round two already?” she asks as Laura bites down. The skin is thin and sensitive there, and she’s unsure of whether she wants to flinch away or pull Laura closer. “No, wait. I need a nap unless you want to turn into an energy drink.”

“I guess that’s the drawback to being a thousand years old. No stamina.” Laura laughs, but ultimately gives up trying to get Carmilla interested again.

“I’m only three hundred and thirty-four!” she says, turning until her back is facing Laura. Her heart beat has settled into its normal glacial rhythm, the world going slow and syrupy as her body returns to its normal rhythm. A good nap and a little blood will shake the tiredness from her bones soon enough.

Laura immediately curls up behind her, arm curled around her chest and body tight against her back like they’d done it hundreds of times. “Who would have thought that the bad ass vampire who killed a minor god would want to be the little spoon.”

“Never stuck around long enough to get to the cuddling part before,” she says. She’s glad that Laura can’t see the dumb grin on her face, and she tries to sound like her usual disaffected self, but Laura kisses her shoulder and Carmilla can feel her smile. She grabs Laura’s hand and threads her fingers through them. “Can’t say I hate it.”

“Did I say bad ass vampire? I meant big softy vampire,” Laura says, then yawns.

Carmilla, too, feels the weight of sleep overwhelming her. She opens her eyes one last time just to enjoy the quiet stillness of the room. Night is falling fast, the room glowing pink as the last rays of the sun pour in through the window. The alarm clock on Laura’s desk blinks over to 6:00 PM. A little red light catches her attention.

She laughs, loud and throaty, startling Laura awake. She twists around in Laura’s arms and kisses her swiftly. “You are ridiculous, cupcake.”

“What? How?”

“You left your camera on.”


End file.
